Tonight Means Forever
by Raven4129
Summary: How can one night change Anita's life forever? SandersOC relationship, Oneshot. Reviews are always welcome, thanks!


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Greg Sanders or Nick Stokes (although they'd look cute in a little red bow for Christmas), just Anita, so please don't sue me. You won't get much...

**A/N:** This is my first CSI Vegas fic so please let me know what you think. It's a little bit racy, so be forewarned :-)

Three months ago my life had been relatively normal. Work was boring, unlike any other necessary action that needs to be performed for the greater good of mankind, or at least that's what my boss tells me every time he feels the need to have a "morale chat." Night life had been boring, as well, and while the great sin city of Las Vegas holds within it a wonderful mystery and excitement, trust me...it can get a little repetitive if the only club you frequent is the same club on the same weeknight with the same friends you've had since high school.

But I imagine you're not here to listen to me ramble about the routine comings and goings of my life when all I did was go to work every morning and eat the same microwaveable dish for dinner every evening. No, I imagine what brings you here is the incident that took place three months ago in the early hours of a Friday morning (or Saturday? I guess it depends on how you consider midnight in terms of what day it is) and I was lounging at a crowded bar, my legs crossed and leading up to my favorite tight skirt, deep red and matching perfectly with the floral print lingerie cami I had decided was going to be my guy magnet for the night. With no decent date or decent boyfriend for that matter in close to a year, my best friend had encouraged me to go to this club once again, only this time on the prowl and yes, ladies, I caught my prey over the rim of a martini glass.

Around the curve of the bar counter he had sat, exchanging unimportant words with another fine piece of meat and seemingly oblivious of the girls that were giggling and fantasizing about one night stands with either one of them. We had quieted when the object of my affection had looked my way with the sauciest brown eyes I'd ever seen on a man and oddly enough I found his lengthened eyelashes just adorable.

"Can you believe that hair, Anita?" Brooke asked me, leaning in close so I could hear her, and she nudged my shoulder, taking the martini from my hands and pushing me towards him.

"No, Brooke, no I can't," I rambled but all she did was laugh and shoo me in his direction, knowing that every man I had ever let woo me from a barstool had turned out to be a tourist from somewhere lame, trying to snazz himself up to be a doctor out of New York and hoping that simple insinuation of large sums of money would get him in my bedroom for the evening.

So, with the knowledge that if he shoved my advances away it would be no love lost, I put on my best toothy smile and slinked into his party, getting dangerously close without invading his personal space and casually interrupting his conversation.

"Hey hot stuff," I started with a wink, immediately regretting my choice of words. This guy was way too beautiful to use cheap pick up lines on. Scolding myself but trying not to miss a beat, I reached across him and grabbed the beer he'd been sipping from, taking a sip myself. "Here with anyone special?"

"Catch ya, G," his friend said with a broad smile, grabbing up his beer and disappearing into the crowd, and I barely caught sight of him meeting up with someone and using his own pick up lines.

"Now I am," he smirked, reclaiming his beer and I leaned my weight on the counter, raising an eyebrow. "Care to dance?"

And thinking back now I'm convinced that dancing is what had led to my drastic change in lifestyle. With an easy flow of his hand he had scooped up my hand and led me into the jiving throng of people, their bodies clashing in rhythm with the music that was buzzing in everyone's ears, vibrating through their bones and stimulating every erotic nerve within their flesh. The two of us had been no exception, our bodies writhing together, against each other, fingertips pulsing over moistened skin, an occasional laugh if we hit accidentally.

Head throbbing with excitement he had pulled me against him, putting his mouth so close to my ear that I could've heard him whisper above the deafening music. "Let's bail to somewhere more quiet."

I don't remember the drive, or the walk from the parking lot to the third floor of an apartment complex I had never set foot in before. All I remember thinking was that this wasn't me. This was some woman I had only read about, watched on television that was driving home with a guy she had known for an hour with every intention of moaning so loud the neighbors downstairs would hear and complain. My body tingled with the excitement of being with him and at the time I had neglected to realize that this man was my beautiful escape from myself, a wonderful release from the tensions of life, and my gosh had it been the most unique love I had ever experienced. The only love I would ever want to know.

In a flurry of arms and legs we were against the back of his door, my shoulders and spine pressed painfully against the solid wood but the pain in my back wasn't on my mind as a warm palm slid across my flushed cheek, another sliding down the length of my side, rounding my hip and butt before lifting my leg up to the height of his waist. Lips crushed together in the still-dark foyer, our tongues dancing feverishly before he left my mouth, pressing his body harder against mine as he replaced his hot lips against my neck and I couldn't help but let my head drop back against the door, wondering just how a complete stranger could make me feel this way. Everything about him had been perfect, from his spiked hair with the tips dipped in gold bleach to his lean and tall body and stirring the dreams in my head of a man I had waited for since discovering my sexuality.

"Mmm, Greg," I found myself murmuring, snaking my upraised leg around his thigh and tucking my ankle snugly against his knee, freeing his hand to move wherever he pleased and he did just that, moving that luscious palm back over my hip and up my shirt, grazing my hot skin before completing the task of removing the thin piece of cloth completely, tossing it away.

"I never do this," I whispered through lust-filled breath, hoping to get it across to him that I wasn't easy...or at least this easy with every guy I ran into, but somehow I think my body's reaction to his touch was telling another story.

"Neither do I," he purred into my ear, and despite the teasing tone, I knew he was being truthful, but as with any completely sexual situation, the conversation was lost among moans and groping and before things progressed, we both pushed away from the door, stumbling across the carpet towards the couch nearby.

Feeling frisky and like the woman I had only dreamed to be in such situations, I firmly pushed him down on the couch with a smirk. "I can undress myself, you know," I teased him under the dim white glow of the moon spilling through the windows, fluffing my already tousled hair and leading my hands over my own curves, basking in the pleased grin gracing his lovely, pouty lips. Shimmying from my skirt I kicked it away before moving my hands to the straps of my bra, my eyes never leaving his and I watched him lick his lips, devilishly loving the torture I was putting him through.

He reached up with one hand and I took it, letting him pull me closer and after straddling him, feeling the bulge I had created in his jeans, I smiled and met his lips once again.

"We don't have to do this," he whispered, shifting beneath me and moving both of his hands between us, teasing the flesh just above the waistband of my underwear, but I couldn't tell him no. I felt no reserves with him, no women's intuition that said he was some serial killer or worse, a typical man (insert canned laughter here). So I merely shook my head, leading one of his hands lower until he took the incentive to snake a finger between the elastic and my skin and causing me to gasp.

Mind fuzzy, I barely noticed the replacement of his finger, and I breathed in deep as his hands firmly pulled on my hips, sinking his arousal deep into my own.

And not surprisingly I was right. As our hips rocked in slow rhythm with each other and my moaning was loud enough that the downstairs neighbors would probably complain to him later on in the day but neither of us cared and it wasn't long before we found ourselves lying on the couch, my spent body relaxed over his and in some strange way I felt like I belonged there, like we were supposed to be, as if we had always been.

So three months later I found myself in his apartment again, this time staggering through the sliding glass door onto his balcony, bare skin exposed to the bright Vegas morning and my very visible bottom sitting on the cold railing, reminding me of a cold seat belt buckle during one of his breaks at work. Strange places had become part of the fun, keeping both of us intrigued although neither of us needed an incentive to stay with each other. Before Greg Sanders, I had never believed in the idea of love at first sight, a predetermined mate in a world of uncertainties, but Greg had broken boundaries I didn't think would ever be broken, especially within me. Bobbing his head animatedly with the latest song from Korn blasting from his radio as he cooked us breakfast, or the carefree way he danced to a tune like no one was watching.

The morning held no candle to his liveliness and I realized we were perfect when he pulled me up one afternoon before he had to work, swinging me around his apartment until we were both dizzy and laughing, falling over each other without reserve and making love on the coffee table.

Greg Sanders had changed my life and thank God he knew it.


End file.
